


Comfort You, Comfort Me

by JetpacksAndRollerblades



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: (she's Enjolras' sister and she's only mentioned), Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Drunk Enjolras, F/F, Female Enjolras, Female Grantaire, Genderbending, Grief/Mourning, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Minor Character Death, Misunderstandings, Not Actually Unrequited Love, POV Female Character, Pining, Rule 63, Self-Esteem Issues, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-26
Updated: 2018-01-22
Packaged: 2018-09-20 02:14:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9470960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JetpacksAndRollerblades/pseuds/JetpacksAndRollerblades
Summary: After hearing the news of her sister's death, while cleaning up after a meeting, Enjolras turns to the only other person in the room for comfort, Grantaire. Grantaire, the girl who Enjolras has only ever expressed her exasperation and dislike for. Grantaire, who's been in love with Enjolras for years. Grantaire, who, of course, would do anything to help Enjolras, but feels extremely guilty for taking pleasure out of physical contact with her grieving friend.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for clicking!

Word of Amelie's death reached the Musain long after the weekly ABC meeting ended. Enjolras was still there, cleaning up and putting things back in their places like she always did, looking tall and beautiful and righteous even while performing the most basic tasks. Grantaire was still there too, sitting at her table in the corner, drinking and teasing and watching Enjolras go about her work, like she always did.

“If you're going to insist on staying you might as well try and make yourself useful,” Enjolras said, not quite unkindly, but not nearly close to kindly either.

“Oh come on, Artemis, you know I'd just make a bigger mess than–” Grantaire began, with a self-deprecating smirk sliding its way into place on her lips, but was cut off by the sound of a cell phone ringing. Enjolras' cell phone. “Hey, Artemis, your phone's ringing.”

Enjolras strode across the room, a displeased look on her face. “I told you not to call me that, Grantaire,” she said, snatching her phone off of the table before Grantaire could pick it up to hand it to her. Grantaire just took a sip of the bottle of whatever it was she was currently nursing and watched Enjolras intently as she answered the phone.

“Enjolras speaking,” she said, professional as ever, into the small piece of technology in her hand. Grantaire scoffed slightly and rolled her eyes. _'How did I fall for such a dork,'_ she thought to herself. She knew the answer, of course, but she couldn't help wondering sometimes.

Grantaire listened to the brusque and clipped responses Enjolras snapped out through her perfect lips to the person on the other end of the phone, watched her toss her curly blonde hair over her shoulder and out of her eyes, and place her hand on her delicate waist, but didn't hear a single one of the words that were being said.

All of a sudden, Enjolras went completely silent. A look of searching fear and confusion enveloped her usually stony features, her perfectly straight posture slumped into itself, and her hand removed itself from her waist to relocate itself over her mouth. There were tears in her eyes. Grantaire immediately started paying attention again, wondering what in the world could make this marble statue of a woman react like that.

Enjolras took a visibly deep breath and closed her eyes, furrowing her brows and swallowing hard. “I'm sorry,” she said into the phone, “I must have hear you incorrectly, I thought you said–” She was cut off again by rapid talking on the other end of the phone that Grantaire couldn't make out. Enjolras' hand was back over her mouth again, and she was blinking hard, obviously trying to contain her tears. “Yeah, I'll see you then,” she eventually said, uncharacteristically softly, before removing the phone from her ear and turning away from Grantaire.

Grantaire had no idea what to do. Eventually, she cleared her throat, and Enjolras turned to face her. Tears were tracing their way down her face. Grantaire got to her feet and set her bottle down on the table. “Hey,” she said, quietly, taking a small step forward. Enjolras looked into her eyes for a brief moment, and then quickly looked away again, focusing her gaze on the floor.

“Enjolras, what happened?” Grantaire asked. Now was not the time for teasing nicknames and ill advised flirting. Now was the time for doing the one thing that Grantaire might be the worst at: comforting the woman who seemed to despise her.

Enjolras said nothing, only stared at Grantaire, with wide eyes and tears streaking down her face. “Enjolras?” Grantaire tried again, taking a tiny, careful step towards her, and when Enjolras didn't flinch away, another, more confident step, landing herself well within an arms reach of the sobbing woman. Enjolras still said nothing. “Um. So. You don't have to tell me what's wrong, but–”

“Amelie's dead,” Enjolras said, quietly, cutting Grantaire off. Grantaire looked up in surprise and confusion, and it must have shown on her face, because Enjolras continued, louder this time, “My sister. She's dead.”

“Oh, Enj, I'm so sorry,” Grantaire said, breathlessly. She wanted more than anything to reach out and pull Enjolras into her arms and comfort her, but she hesitated, bringing her arms back sharply to her sides. Despite having gone through a period of loss similar to this just a year prior, Grantaire had no idea what to say to comfort Enjolras. “I'm just,” she tried again, “Sorry. Really sorry.”

Grantaire knew she was just spouting nonsense to try to fill the silence, but she babbled her nonsensical apologies out anyways, desperately wishing she could crack a joke and make Enjolras' tears evaporate, but knowing that just wasn't possible. Enjolras surprised her by suddenly lurching forward, throwing her arms around Grantaire's shoulders and pressing her entire body up against Grantaire's. Because of their height difference, Enjolras had to hunch over to fit her face into the crook of Grantaire's neck. Grantaire started in surprise, and her entire body went tense, her thoughts running a mile a minute.

_Oh my god she's touching me. We've never been nearly this close to each other before. She's holding me. She's holding ME. Okay, calm down Grantaire, it's only because she's suffering, you can't use this for your own sick ulterior motives, just comfort her. Hug her back, you idiot!_

Grantaire quickly moved her arms so that they were wrapping around Enjolras' back, and then rubbed them in circles as she shook against her shoulder. She didn't have anything good to say, so for once, neither of them said anything for each other, just held each other in their arms and waited.

Eventually, Enjolras' sobs quieted and slowed down, and she pulled away from Grantaire, somewhat awkwardly. “Um,” the usually eloquent woman began, her nose red and her eyes puffy and darting to and from every place in the room that wasn't Grantaire began, “I'm sorry, it's late and you probably didn't even want to hug me I shouldn't have–”

The idea that Grantaire wouldn't want to touch Enjolras and that she'd somehow crossed Grantaire's boundaries was so far off base for Grantaire that she had trouble forcing down a hysterical laugh. Instead she managed to say, “No, Enjolras, you're fine, okay, don't worry. You're going through something horrible, I'd know. I guess I'm just glad that you weren't here all alone. I'm glad I could, uh, finally make myself useful, right?”

The self-deprecating joke obviously didn't land the way Grantaire had intended it. Enjolras grabbed Grantaire's shoulders and looked into her eyes sadly, almost as if she was going to cry again.

“Oh shit, sorry, I take it back,” Grantaire said, trying to back peddle, “Don't cry again, please.”

Enjolras dipped her head down in what might have been a laugh, but was more like a choked and muffled sob.

“Hey, it's late. Let's get you home, okay?” Grantaire suggested.

Enjolras didn't say anything, just nodded. She gave Grantaire's shoulders one last squeeze, before looking down quickly at what she was doing and pulling her hands back against her own chest. There were so many different emotions flitting across her face, and Grantaire wasn't sure what to make of any of it.

“Come on, I'll give you a ride home,” she said.

“No, it's okay, I can walk, it's not far,” Enjolras said, not meeting Grantaire's eyes.

“No, Enjolras, I'm not going to let you walk home like this. Get your papers and stuff together.” It was an order, not a question, and to Grantaire's complete and utter disbelief, Enjolras did what she said without a further word of protest.

Maybe she shouldn't have been too surprised though. It was normal for people under great emotional stress to behave out of character. Yes, exactly. That's the only logical explanation for Enjolras doing crazy things like touching or hugging Grantaire, or doing what Grantaire told her to do, or letting Grantaire drive her home. She was out of her mind with grief and she needed someone to latch on to for comfort. Grantaire was just the closest person to her, physically, when she got the heartbreaking news. Yeah. That was the only possible reason.

While Grantaire stood thinking, Enjolras gathered together her papers and laptop off of the table and put them haphazardly into her backpack. That was out of character for her too, Grantaire noted. She was usually so careful with her belongings. Enjolras had finished packing up her stuff, but she was just standing there, staring at the floor, instead of walking back over to Grantaire and out of the café.

Grantaire waited for a few seconds, not sure if she should go over to her to lead her out or just call her over. She cleared her throat, and Enjolras looked up. She looked sad and tired, the fire that usually resided in her eyes was doused, and her usually strong and assertive posture was slumped. “C'mon,” Grantaire finally managed to choke out.

Enjolras followed Grantaire out of the café and down the dark street a little while to her car. Grantaire opened the passenger seat door for her, and let her fold her long limbs into the small vehicle and pull the door closed herself while she walked around the front of the car and got into the driver's seat. She hazarded a quick glance over at Enjolras as she put the key in the ignition and started the car.

Enjolras was holding her backpack tight in her lap and looking down, almost as if she was looking into herself. Her hands gripped and clasped and picked at the fabric of her backpack, and she was blinking more than normal.

“Hey,” said Grantaire, uncertainly, turning to face Enjolras. Enjolras looked at her quickly, and Grantaire could see that she'd started crying again.

“Hey, it's okay,” Grantaire said, uncomfortable and unsure in her role as Enjolras' comforter, but determined nonetheless. She reached her out towards her hands, as if she was going to place her steady hand over top of Enjolras' shaking ones. At the very last moment, she second guessed herself, and began to pull her hand back to her, but Enjolras was faster. She grabbed Grantaire's hand in hers and held it tight, letting their joined hands rest together on the broken center console.

The sudden movement startled Grantaire, her heartbeat doubling in its pace. After a few seconds she managed to finally pull her focus off of their hands and sigh, resigned to the fact that she'd have to drive Enjolras home with one hand on the wheel and the other in the most nerve wracking and guilt-inducing hand hold of her life.

Somehow, though, she managed. As she pulled into a parking space in front of Enjolras' apartment, she chanced a sideways look at Enjolras. Her head was tipped slightly down and her eyes were pinched closed and her jaw clenched. She seemed to be putting a great amount of effort into regulating her breathing. She wasn't sobbing anymore, but every once and a while a small tear would slip past her defenses and roll down her perfect cheek and drip onto her backpack. She didn't seem to notice that the car had stopped moving, or at least was making no move to get out.

“Hey, Enj?” Grantaire asked, squeezing Enjolras' hand for good measure. Enjolras looked up quickly, brown eyes wide and shining. Grantaire cursed and shamed her heart for speeding up at that. _What kind of selfish bitch could take advantage of another person's grief like this?_ “Um. We're at your house,” she finally managed to choke out awkwardly.

Enjolras looked out of the windshield at her apartment with no recognition in her eyes.

“Enj?” Grantaire asked again, trying to quickly arrange her thoughts into an understandable stream before she opened her mouth again, “I know you're not really okay right now, Enj, but I need to know that you're okay enough to go up into your apartment, take off your shoes, and get into your bed without hurting yourself.”

“Right, yeah,” Enjolras said, nodding vacantly, still staring blankly out the windshield. Then all of a sudden the words seemed to finally sink in, and she sat up straight, and pulled her hand away from where it was still resting in Grantaire's. “I mean, yes. I'm okay, I'll be okay. I'm okay,” she breathed out, quickly, and turned to start fiddling with the handle and lock on the passenger seat door.

She clearly wasn't okay. No one who was actually okay ever said the word 'okay' that many times in a single breath, Grantaire knew that, but she didn't know what else to do.

Suddenly, Enjolras stopped her fiddling and turned back to face Grantaire, her expression, among other things, seemed nervous. “Grantaire?” She asked, meek and unsure, totally different from the Enjolras that Grantaire had always known.

“Yes?” Grantaire replied, quietly.

“Thank you,” Enjolras said, even quieter.

Grantaire was taken by surprise. Enjolras had never thanked her for anything before. Then again, she'd probably never done anything worth thanking for Enjolras, she figured. “No problem, Enj.”

Enjolras nodded and turned back to face the door again for a second or two before turning to face Grantaire again. “Grantaire?”

“Yes?”

“The um, the wake and funeral are tomorrow, and I was thinking, and you can totally say no if you want to, but I was thinking that maybe, because you were so nice to me today and all, and I really don't want to face my parents alone, and–”

“Enjolras, breathe.”

“Right, sorry,” She said, and took a breath before looking over at Grantaire and trying again. “What I meant was, would you come with me?”

Despite already being pretty sure that that was what Enjolras was trying to ask her in that rambling mess of a sentence, the question still surprised her. Despite that, she knew her answer immediately. Of course she would come. She'd do anything Enjolras asked her. Enjolras, she realized was still staring at her, waiting for an answer. “Sure, I'll come with you if that's what you want, Enj,” she said.

Enjolras let out a breath. “Okay, good. Great. Thank you,” she said, and turned back to the door, but still didn't open it. Her hand lay limp and useless on the handle. Grantaire was about to ask if she needed help with the door when she turned around again.

“Grantaire?” she asked, for the third time.

“Yes?”

“Would you– I mean, do you want to–?” She cut herself off and sighed, “I'm sorry, never mind. Goodnight, R.” And with that, she got out of the car and walked up to the door to her apartment.

Grantaire watched her unlock her door and slip inside with a tumultuous storm of clashing emotions tearing around inside her chest. Concern, shame, love, yearning, self-loathing, empathy, curiosity, and wonder, far too many emotions for a single person to feel at a single time, danced and sang and screamed inside of her body. _Holy fucking shit_ , she thought to herself. _What is my life anymore? What is reality? Ugh, shut up, R, just drive home and go to sleep you idiot. We can deal with your shit in the morning._

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow, so my original plan didn't involve huge gaps in updating, but here we are.

When Grantaire woke up the next day she almost made it all the way to her kitchen before she remembered the events that had passed the night before. The memories hit her all at once, with enough force to make her stumble and nearly trip over a stack of books and notebooks that she'd left on the floor for some reason that she couldn't recall. Not that it mattered now. Every other problem in her life at the moment suddenly had to be shoved into the back of her mind to make room for the current _major_ problem. Oh my god, Enjolras' sister died. Oh my god, she asked me to come to the wake and funeral with her. Oh my god, that's today, what time is it?

Grantaire hurried, bleary and panicked, back into her room to grab her phone off of her desk. 8:45 am. One new message, content hidden. With fumbling fingers, Grantaire unlocked her phone to read the message. It was from Enjolras at 12:53 the night before, right after Grantaire had dropped her off. It read, “Thank you for saying you'll come with me tomorrow. You can still back out if you need to, but otherwise I'll pick you up at 9 to drive to the city. E.”

Shit. 9 o'clock was barely 10 minutes away, and Grantaire won't be helping Enjolras with anything if she's half asleep, half dressed, and barely aware of her surroundings. Hell, she should be the one to pick Enjolras up and drive her to where she needs to be. She needs to be Enjolras' crutch, not the other way around.

Grantaire got dressed, as quickly as possible, in the nicest black clothes she could find in her closet. There was no time for make up, so she shoved it into her backpack in case there was time to do it later. Wouldn't want to force a grieving family to look at her ugly face on top of everything else they're going through.

She'd just finished brushing her teeth when she heard a knock on her door. Enjolras. Shit.

She stumbled down the stairs as quickly as she could without causing herself any major injury, not wanting to leave Enjolras waiting at the door, stopping only for a second to take a deep breath and steel herself before opening the front door.

Enjolras stood on the stoop, head drooping, eyes unfocused. She was wearing a long, plain, black dress. Respectful, not showy. Even in mourning she is gorgeous, Grantaire thought, and then immediately cursed herself for thinking such a despicable thing.

“Hey,” Grantaire said.

Enjolras looked up, and nodded her head in lieu of a verbal response.

“You ready to get going?” Grantaire prompted.

Enjolras nodded again, and the two of them started walking back to where Enjolras had parked her car. Grantaire noticed that Enjolras was making her way to the driver’s side door, but something about that felt wrong to her. Grantaire was supposed to be here to help Enjolras out. Shouldn’t she be the one behind the wheel?

“Uh, Enjolras? Maybe I could drive?” She suggested, just as Enjolras opened the door.

Seemingly, caught off guard by the offer, Enjolras stood silently for a moment, before sighing and walking back over to the passenger side of the car where Grantaire stood, and handing over the keys. 

After getting into the car and putting the key into the ignition, Grantaire turned to look at Enjolras. She looked terrible. Grantaire knew that she had a less than perfect relationship with her parents, something that she herself, unfortunately, could relate to. Although she'd never lost a sibling, she'd lost more than one friend to drugs and suicide, so she felt like she could probably understand how Enjolras was feeling. It was almost like fate, she scoffed to herself. That someone so well qualified to be there for Enjolras, the very same person who happened to be there when Enjolras got the horrible news, was the very same woman that up until that night, Enjolras wouldn't spare a second glance at, unless it was to criticize or belittle.

"Just tell me where to go, okay?" Grantaire finally asked.

"Okay," Enjolras said, finally breaking her silence, "Just get onto the highway going southbound for now."

"Alright, gotcha," Grantaire replied, cringing at her tactless response and putting the car into gear. Maybe this is my chance, she thought to herself, sneaking another look at Enjolras, who was staring out of her window.  _ Maybe, for some reason, I'm being given this chance to prove myself worthy of Enjolras in some way. Maybe if I do this right, she'll stop hating me, and realize I'm totally worth her time. Yeah, sure, and maybe I'll get a new commission and pay my rent on time and I won't be a total mess anymore. Anything's possible, right? _

It wasn't a long drive, only about 45 minutes. Enjolras directed Grantaire where to go with as few words as possible, and was otherwise silent. The closer they got to their destination, the more anxious Grantaire became. What was she supposed to do? What was her role? Why on earth did Enjolras ask her to come? God, she'd probably end up causing more harm than good, if all of her other interactions with Enjolras in the past had been anything to go by. This was all a mistake; she should have told Enjolras that she was busy or something, that way she wouldn't be there to mess everything up.

Well, too late now, Grantaire thought, pulling into the parking lot of the funeral home. She parked the car and was about to get out when she realized that Enjolras wasn't moving. Rather, she was sitting, stock-still, screwing her eyes shut and holding her breath as if to hold something inside of her. "Hey," Grantaire said, turning to face Enjolras fully. 

Enjolras ignored her.

"Come on, Enj, I'm here to help you, but I can't do anything if you don't tell me how. I’m totally out of my depth here," Grantaire said, feeling increasingly desperate. What was she supposed to do if Enjolras just kept acting like she wasn’t there?

Enjolras sighed quietly and rubbed her hands over her eyes. “I’m sorry Grantaire. I shouldn’t have dragged you along. This was a mistake. If you don’t want to come in you don’t have to, okay? You can drive home and I’ll just take the bus back when it’s over —”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Grantaire cut in. “You haven’t dragged me anywhere, okay? I’m here to help you however you need. And I’m  _ not  _ just going to drive back and abandon you here. Okay?”

“Sure, yeah, okay,” Enjolras breathed, nodding to herself. “Let’s do this.”

 

⎔⎔⎔⎔⎔

 

The wake was hard and the funeral was harder, but it mostly passed in a blur. More than once, to Grantaire complete and utter shock, Enjolras grabbed her hand and held it tightly, or leaned up against her for support. Grantaire was confused, sure, but she wasn’t about to call Enjolras out on it. She wasn’t a big enough dick to put Enjolras on the spot like that. She needed comfort, so Grantaire provided it. End of story.

Despite Enjolras's less-than-wonderful history with her parents,  clashing at every moment with their old-fashioned, upper-class ways, no one seemed to have it in them to bring up their differences.  _ Even bigots grieve for their children the same as everyone else, I suppose,  _ Grantaire thought to herself

Grantaire had never met Amelie, but she’d heard a lot about her. She and Enjolras always had a good relationship, despite Enjolras becoming estranged from most of her family due to her loud expressions of her political leanings. Amelie wasn’t as outspoken as her sister, but made up for it elsewhere. Everyone who came to the funeral seemed to have something they needed to say about her kindness and her giving personality. It was clear she’d be missed.

After the funeral ended, Grantaire herded Enjolras back out to the car. Many of the people at the funeral seemed to want to stay and mill about and talk to one another afterwards, and there seemed to be talk of some sort of get together at a fancy restaurant later, but Grantaire knew enough about Enjolras that she knew it would be a major league bad idea to keep her around her family for much longer. Enjolras put up a bit of a fight about it, telling Grantaire, “I’m not a  _ child _ , R, I can make my own decisions,” and, “What if I  _ wanted  _ to go to the stupid funeral after party, huh? Jesus who has an after party for a fucking funeral?” but Grantaire shoved her lovingly into the passenger seat.

Driving in the car, Grantaire had time to think again. All the physical contact with Enjolras throughout the day had been amazing, and the feeling of really being needed was even better. The better she felt about herself, however, the worse her guilt became. Of course she’d be the horrible parasite of a human being who gets validation from offering base physical comfort to her grieving crush.  _ How creepy can a person get? Jesus, R. _

By the time Grantaire pulled up to Enjolras’ apartment, it was nearly 7 o’clock, and the sun was starting to dip below the mountains in the distance. Enjolras looked exhausted and Grantaire felt the same. She hadn’t eaten anything other than the tiny hors d'oeuvre sandwiches during the wake, and hadn’t drank a single drop of alcohol all day, aside from the measly flute of champagne she guiltily gulped down when Enjolras was in the bathroom. All in all, she wasn’t feeling on top of her game. All she wanted was to go home, eat some instant noodles, and drink herself to sleep, wallowing in her own shame. She put the car into park, but didn’t take the key out of the ignition, figuring that her usefulness to Enjolras had finally run it’s course, Enjolras would start hating her again, and the world would right itself.

“Hey,” Enjolras started, interrupting Grantaire’s self-deprecating train of thought. To Grantaire’s surprise, Enjolras looked a little embarrassed. “Thanks for coming with me today, it really meant a lot to me, you know?”

“Yeah, of course,” Grantaire replied, not really knowing what to say. An awkward silence fell over the car, and then the two of them both started talking at once:

“So I guess I’ll get going —” 

“Do you want to come in for—”

They looked at each other in surprise, unsure of what to do. 

“Um, sorry, what were you saying?” Grantaire finally asked, breaking the silence.

“Oh, I was just thinking that maybe you’d want to come in and have something for dinner with me. But you don’t have to of course! If you want to leave you can totally leave you definitely don’t have to feel obligated to—”

“Chill, Artemis, I’d love to have dinner with you, okay? Don’t stress yourself out,” Grantaire replied, trying her best to play it cool, and immediately regretting using the dumb antagonistic nickname.

Surprisingly, Enjolras didn’t give any indication that Grantaire had said anything annoying at all. Instead, she gave her a small smile and led the way up to the apartment, unlocking the door and holding it open for Grantaire, a gesture that Grantaire found both ridiculous and charming. Soon enough, Grantaire was all the way inside of the living room, sitting on the couch while Enjolras looked disappointedly at the contents of her refrigerator. 

“Hey, Grantaire?” she finally asked.

Grantaire, who had been zoning out just watching Enjolras’ graceful movements around her kitchen, wondering how in the world a woman who’d gone through so much mental and emotional stress throughout the day could still have so much control over her motor functions, hummed in response.

“How do you feel about take-out?”

Grantaire couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face.

 

⎔⎔⎔⎔⎔

 

Takeout was ordered and Netflix was loaded up on Enjolras’ laptop, and before Grantaire had noticed the time fly by, she and Enjolras were curled up together on the couch, drinking wine, eating from the same bag of potato chips, hands brushing together, curled up against each other, finishing their sixth episode of The Office. Enjolras, being a little less used to consuming alcohol than Grantaire, was nearly drunk, while Grantaire herself wasn't even tipsy.

“Hey R?” Enjolras asked, suddenly.

“Yeah?”

“Can I tell you a secret?” 

“Uh, sure, E,” Grantaire said, unsure if it was really a great idea.

Enjolras just giggled. “I,” she continued, “actually really like it when you call me Artemis. A  _ lot _ .”

Grantaire didn’t know what to say. This was so far into the uncharted zone of their relationship she might as well burn the map along with the compass.

“And you know what else?” Enjolras continued, leaning farther into Grantaire’s space. “I’m  _ so _ glad you came today.” She giggled lightly, leaving a dumb smile on her gorgeous face.

“Yeah?” Grantaire asked, not knowing what else she could possibly say with Enjolras leaning so close to her she could practically count her eyelashes and feel her breath against her neck.

“ _ Yeah _ ,” she breathed in response. She was too close. The situation was becoming dangerous. Grantaire didn’t know what to do. Just as she was about to suggest that it was late and she should leave, Enjolras surged forward and pressed her lips against Grantaire’s.

For just a moment, everything in the world was perfect. Enjolras' warm body was pressed up against Grantaire's, hands balled at her sides, mouth moving slowly and sweetly against Grantaire’s, and Grantaire couldn’t do anything but respond in kind.

Enjolras tried to deepen the kiss, and as Grantaire moaned, she finally came back to her senses and pulled back. Enjolras pouted slightly, perfect and gorgeous and enticing as ever, and tried to lean back in, but Grantaire pushed her away as gently as she could.

“Come on, Enj,” she said, keeping Enjolras at a safe distance, “This is a bad idea and you know it. Let’s just get you in bed and I’ll go home okay?”

As she spoke, Enjolras visibly deflated. “Yeah, sure, okay,” she agreed, untangling herself from Grantaire and trudging down the hall to her bedroom.

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay, Enjolras?” Grantaire called after her, wondering if she’d somehow done the wrong thing.

“Yeah, of course,” Enjolras replied, sounding exhausted and dejected, and not like she had much of an intention of reaching out to Grantaire the next day.

As Grantaire saw herself out of Enjolras’ apartment and back to her own she tried to figure out exactly what happened, and no matter how many angles she looked at it from she came up with the same conclusion: Enjolras was tired and drunk, and had gotten all of her emotions in a mess because of her sister’s death and the funeral, and then thought that because Grantaire took care of her when she needed it, that she tolerated Grantaire enough to use her for physical comfort in the most base, sexual way. 

_ And I went along with it. I took advantage of her. God. This is fucked. I’m fucked. I fucked up for real this time.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> poor babes. :'-(
> 
> no promises on when the final chapter comes out because my promises probably mean nothing. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A resolution to this emotional mess.

Grantaire awoke the next morning and immediately wished she could go back to sleep and never wake up again. How could she ever face Enjolras again? How could she ever face any of Les Amis again? She was disgusting, despicable, the worst person any of them had ever had the awful luck to make the acquaintance of.

As immature as it was, Grantaire resolved to pretend it had never happened, and see if Enjolras would reach out. Grantaire felt that she knew Enjolras well enough to be sure that when Enjolras felt wronged she didn’t just shut up about it and let the asshole who wronged her get away with it. And she didn’t let people stay upset with each other over misunderstandings either. So Grantaire chose to play the role of the coward that she always knew she was, and wait for Enjolras to come to her.

But she didn’t. Days passed, one by one, with nothing from Enjolras. Grantaire was beginning to get scared. Before she knew it, a whole week had passed, and it was time for the weekly Les Amis meeting at the Musain. Filled with trepidation, Grantaire steeled herself and went, fully prepared to face Enjolras’ shame and wrath. 

Grantaire walked into the back room and sat down in her usual seat. Joly gave her a cheerful hello, just as he always did, and everything seemed normal. Grantaire looked around, as inconspicuous as she could manage, to see where Enjolras was, but she was nowhere to be found. As Combeferre called the meeting to order and started in on the day’s topic—income inequality—Grantaire leaned over to Joly.

“Hey, why isn’t Enjolras here?” she whispered.

“Didn’t you hear?” Joly whispered back, “Her sister died in a car accident last week. Ferre said she’s been a total wreck since, that’s why they’re running the whole meeting tonight.”

Grantaire tried to concentrate as best she could on Combeferre’s strong, sure voice, but she couldn’t stop her mind from wandering back to Enjolras again and again—Enjolras before the funeral, Enjolras in the Musain last week, Enjolras giggling, Enjolras crying, Enjolras kissing her—it was too much, she didn’t know what to do. Before she knew it, the meeting was over, and Joly was asking her if she wanted to go out for a drink.

“Are you alright, R? You don’t look so hot,” he said, his eyebrows scrunching together in a concerned expression, that only became more pronounced the longer Grantaire stayed silent. “Are you sick?”

“What? No, no, I’m cool Joly, it’s cool,”Grantaire bumbled, then stood abruptly. “Hey, I’m gonna have to skip out on the drinks for tonight, alright? Cool, see you around.”

Grantaire left as quickly as she could, well aware of her odd behavior, and embarrassed about it. She couldn’t dwell on it though, she had bigger things to deal with. She had to go talk to Enjolras. 

⎔⎔⎔⎔⎔

Grantaire had never seen Enjolras look so miserable before. She answered the door in gray sweatpants and an old sweatshirt, both with large holes and various stains of indeterminate origin. Her hair was a rats nest and the bags under her eyes were substantial enough to carry groceries. The second she saw Grantaire, she looked like she was about to start to cry. Grantaire almost turned away, ran away, fled, out of fear, but she didn’t. She stayed.

“Hey, E...” she began awkwardly, as if she was planning on saying something else but decided against it halfway through.

“Uh. Hi,” Enjolras replied, making no move to invite Grantaire inside.

Grantaire felt miserable. She shouldn’t have come. She should have told Courfeyrac or Combeferre or Feuilly or _ anybody else _ that she thought that Enjolras might need some moral support and had them come instead.

“Can I — I mean, do you— I mean—” Grantaire tried.

“Sure, you can come in, Grantaire,” Enjolras sighed, like it practically physically pained her to invite Grantaire in. Then she mumbled, “We needed to talk eventually, I guess.”

That did nothing to calm Grantaire’s nerves or hyperactive imagination, which were both working at at least double speed to think of every single possible way that Enjolras could tell her that she was a disgusting human being, unworthy of love in any way. She followed Enjolras into her living room, and the two of them looked down, briefly, at the couch where they’d kissed. Where Grantaire had taken advantage of Enjolras. Grantaire might forget how to breathe.

Enjolras sat down. Grantaire stayed standing. Neither looked the other in the eye. Neither spoke. 

Suddenly, Grantaire’s phone started ringing. Both women jumped. Grantaire had no idea if she should answer it or not. She didn’t want to offend Enjolras, but there wasn’t likely that Enjolras’s opinion of her could get any lower at this point. And what if it was important. 

“Hello?” 

“Hey, R, it’s just me. Uh, well, actually Bossuet is here with me too, but— nevermind. I’m worried about you, that’s all. You left the meeting so suddenly. Are you sure you’re okay? Do you want me to come over?” Joly gushed through the phone. Grantaire couldn’t get a word in edgewise.

“Don’t worry, I’m fine, Joly. Really,” Grantaire replied, trying to sound as genuine as possible. “But listen, I’m kind of in the middle of something at the moment, can I call you back later?”

“You went to the meeting?” Enjolras asked.

Without waiting for Joly’s reply, Grantaire closed her phone and put it back into her pocket. “Yeah, of course I did.” Grantaire replied cautiously. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“I dunno. I just thought— I don’t know I just thought that maybe you wouldn’t come anymore.” Enjolras said, still not meeting Grantaire’s eyes.

“Why not?” Grantaire countered, starting to feel defensive. 

“I thought… that maybe you wouldn’t want to see me anymore?” Her sentence began as a statement but ended as a question. 

That only made Grantaire more confused. “But you weren’t even there?”

“But I could have been.”

“Right.”

“And what would you have done then?”

“I don’t know? Avoided you, maybe?”

“If you didn’t want to see me again, then why would you go to the meeting? And why would you come here?”

“...Do you want me to stop coming to the meetings?”

“No.”

“And… do you want me to leave your house?”

“...No.”

“What the hell, Enjolras, I don’t understand what’s going on!”

“Neither do I, Grantaire!”

“If you never want to see me again, just tell me! Okay? I went to the meeting because that’s what I  _ do _ ! I go to your meetings and a hang out with your friends and I listen to your voice and look at your face! I’m a fucking leech, and I know it, okay? Sucking everything out of your life like some worthless creep!”

Grantaire raised her voice more and more, unleashing her emotions, expecting retaliation. She wanted Enjolras to get upset. She wanted Enjolras to yell back. She wanted Enjolras to tell her she was wrong, and she wanted Enjolras to tell her she was right. Instead, Enjolras stayed silent, waiting patiently for Grantaire’s tirade to end.

“You’re not a creep, Grantaire,” Enjolras finally whispered.

Grantaire tried to scoff, but it came out as more of a choked off sob.

“You’re _ not _ . Jeez, R, between the two of us I’m probably…” she trailed off.

Grantaire couldn’t hold back a spiteful, disbelieving laugh.

“I’m sorry, R, I really am,” Enjolras said, and her voice sounded too small.

“For  _ what _ ?” Grantaire asked. “Getting my hopes up? Leading me on?”

“What?!” Enjolras asked, suddenly sounding shocked, and Grantaire realized what she’d said. What she’d let slip.

_ Oh shit, oh shit it’s really over now,  _ Grantaire thought. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to say that. I should go.”

She started to turn away, but Enjolras shot to her feet. “You… you like me?”

Grantaire froze, and deflated in defeat. “Yes.” She couldn’t meet Enjolras’s eyes.

“R, look at me.”

Unable to refuse Enjolras, Grantaire turned to look. Enjolras was crying. But also… smiling? Grantaire had no clue what was going on.

“I like you too, R. So much.”

“What? But…” Grantaire trailed off, too stunned to speak. “But you hate me though! You only tolerate me because your friends like me! And then I got you drunk and kissed you. I basically assaulted you! How could you possibly like someone like that?”

“I don’t hate you.” Enjolras argued. “And you didn’t assault me, R, I kissed you, remember?”

“You of all people know that consent doesn’t work like that, Enj.” Grantaire replied gravely.

“Don’t you get it R? You like me and I like you! Hell, I might even love you, and you’re standing here in my house trying to convince me that I shouldn’t feel the way I feel?”

“...You love me?”

“I think I do, R, but I’ll never know if you keep shutting me away like this.”

Grantaire was silent for a while. She could feel the tears forming, burning in her eyes. She didn’t want to cry, not now, but she’d experienced too many emotions in too short of a timeframe and she hadn’t had enough to drink to get rid of her headache and Enjolras was standing in front of her, looking right through her with her piercing eyes, seeing into her, and not running away.

Slowly, Enjolras reached an arm up and placed her hand on Grantaire’s shoulder. “Do you want to try?” she asked, softly.

Grantaire said nothing, but nodded violently as tears began to run down her face. Enjolras smiled a smile so beautiful that Grantaire thought she might burst into flames just from witnessing it. Suddenly, the two of them were hugging each other tightly, squeezing their bodies as close to each other as they could.

“I love you so much,” Grantaire mumbled through her tears, and Enjolras held her impossibly tighter.

**Author's Note:**

> Leave me a comment?
> 
> (please?)


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